


The Shitty Killjoy Highschool AU No One Asked For

by MyGenderIsNo46



Category: My Chemical Romance, The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Bullying, Editing? I don't know her, Everyone is gay as shit, Highschool AU, Homophobia, M/M, Nonbinary Jet Star, Other, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, The True Lives Of The Fabulous Killjoys, This Fic Lives Up To Its Name, This probably sucks, Trans Character, Trans Fun Ghoul (Danger Days), don't even bother, i can't tag, tags to be added later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:16:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27340339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyGenderIsNo46/pseuds/MyGenderIsNo46
Summary: Did you read the title? Good, that should be all you need to know. (Yes this is my way of saying I can't write a fucking summary) ((Yes you're just going to have to read the first chapter and decide if this is something you want to waste your time on)) (((sorry))) Also, this will be written in first person, except for the prologue and epilogue, just a heads up. This work will have multiple chapters, and is currently in progress.
Relationships: Fun Ghoul/Party Poison (Danger Days), Jet Star/Kobra Kid (Danger Days), Korse (Danger Days)/Korse's Boyfriend (Fabulous Killjoys)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 14





	1. Prologue

Prologue

Poison looks over at his brother, bouncing excitedly in his seat. Kobra glares in his direction, annoyed by the nine year old’s constant flow of energy. Though Kobra is a year younger, he is more calm and collected than his brother. Quieter for sure. Poison had bothered their mother for hours earlier on, not shutting up until Donna had finally given in and agreed to take her sons to the park. They are going to meet up with two of their other friends, Jet and Korse when they get there. With the boys’ unique names and personalities,their parents often joked that they were practically characters out of a comic book, which the boys seemed to take as a compliment.

“Kobra,” Poison whispers, a serious expression on his young face.

“Don’t you dare,” Kobra warns.

“Are we almost there yet?”

Kobra groans, having already heard the question what seems like millions of times in the last ten minutes.

“I don’t know, Poison, I’m eight.”

His brother looks confused for a moment. “What does that have to do with-” He stops talking, interrupting himself with a gasp. While the boys were bickering, they had arrived at the park.

Poison jumps out of the car as soon as his mom unlocks the door, luckily remembering to take his seat belt off first this time. Kobra follows soon after, albeit in a much calmer manner. Their mom takes a seat on a bench near the car, opening a magazine. The brothers run over to the swings, which is pretty much their designated meet up spot, to wait for the rest of their friends. Luckily, they didn’t have to wait long. Jet Star comes bounding over to the brothers, his curly brown hair escaping from a messily-done bun at the top of his head. 

“Poison! Kobes!” he pants out, slowing down as to not go barreling into the two boys waiting at the swing set.

“Hey, Jet!” Kobra pipes up. Even though he’s a year younger than the other boys, he and Jet have always been closest, sometimes even closer than with his own brother, which is saying something. 

Jet’s face lights up when he hears Kobra’s voice. He pulls the younger boy into a short hug, causing Poison to laugh when Kobra flails around, trying (and failing) to get out of Jet’s hold. 

Suddenly, another voice interrupts them. “My dad says that’s gay and you shouldn’t hug other boys, Jet.” Korse steps over to the group, his father watching from the parking lot.

Jet frowns. “Why not?”

Korse crosses his arms, glancing back at his dad with a strange look in his eyes. “Because it’s gross.”

Poison steps forward protectively, seeming more in-tune with what Korse is saying than the other two. He runs a hand through his greasy black hair and glares at the other boy. “No, it’s not. You’re just being mean.”

Korse glances back at his father again, looking nervous. His dad nods once, and Korse looks down at his feet. “Yes it  _ is _ . My dad says I can’t be friends with…” he trails off, looking close to tears.

“With  _ what _ ?!” Poison crosses his arms, matching the boy in front of him. Kobra whimpers at his side, not liking how upset his brother is, even though he doesn’t understand what’s going on.

Korse shifts, looking back at his father for a third time. His father looks at him expectantly, tapping the watch on his wrist twice. Korse gets the message.  _ Hurry up, we don’t have all day.  _

The boy looks over at the group again, determination in his hazel eyes. “With f-faggots.”

Poison inhales sharply and steps forward even more, pushing his little brother behind him. “Take that back,” he spits, ignoring Kobra’s confused stare. Jet glares at Korse, finally beginning to understand the situation.

Korse doesn’t respond, only shrugging and looking back at his feet. “My dad doesn’t want me talking to you guys anymore. ‘M sorry.” And with that, he turns on his heel and walks away.

As soon as Korse is out of earshot, Poison turns back to his friends, sniffling. Jet steps forward, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“What just happened?” Kobra asks, still wide-eyed and confused.

Poison wipes at his eyes, brushing away any tears that might have resided there. “He said some bad things, so he can’t play with us anymore, okay, Kobes?”

Kobra frowns. “He’s a bad guy now?” he asks, referring to their usual game of heroes in a dystopian universe of sorts.

Jet pulls the brothers into a hug, despite what Korse said about hugging other boys. “For now. We’ll just have to see.”

“Okay. What if he stays a bad guy, though?”

Poison answers this time. “Hopefully he won’t, but if he does, we’ll just have to be the good guys. It’ll be okay, you’ll see.”


	2. Look Alive, Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One week before school begins. Basically a filler chapter in a way. I really just needed this so I could lay down some backstory and important details for the rest of the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while....I have no excuse. I hope to update this at least three times a month. I'm working on a bunch of different projects too, so it's a little hard to schedule. ALSO! I probably don't have to say this, but the characters in this story are not in any way supposed to be the actual people who portray them, I just used some aspects of the band members for some of the characters' appearances, last names, birthdays, and some parts of their personalities. Thanks to those of you who are reading this!

POV: Poison

Poison lounges on his bed, enjoying the last week of summer as much as he possibly can. While most seventeen year olds would be out with their friends or making the most of the time they have left, Poison is perfectly content with staying holed up in his room with a sketchbook and music blaring in his ears. Of course, his plans are immediately foiled when his mother’s voice breaks through the relaxed quiet he had created for himself.

“Poison! Kobra!” She sounds frustrated. “For the  _ fourth time _ , get your lazy asses down here!”

Poison groans loudly, pulling his headphones down and letting them hang around his neck. He doesn’t bother turning off the music, though, a faint, tinny noise coming from the speakers. 

He drags himself down the stairs, his brother following just behind him. Their mother waits for them at the bottom of the staircase holding a couple of folded papers. The boys look at her in question, waiting for her to speak.

“Your school schedules are here,” she says crossly. 

Kobra steps forward, taking them from her outstretched hand. He opens one, glancing at it quickly before handing it to his older brother. He then opens his own, paying more attention to this one.

Poison squints at his before crushing it into a ball. “Fucking hell!” he groans. “Mrs. Ritter  _ again _ .”

He had gotten the woman as his homeroom-as well as math-teacher last year and the only thing he learned in that class was how much self control it takes to not commit unspeakable crimes upon uptight middle aged women.

His mother tuts at him, reprimanding his language while Kobra snickers by his side. Like his older brother, the sixteen year old had suffered through a year with Mrs, Ritter, or The Director, as they like to call her, and hates her just as much as Poison does. Luckily for him, he had managed to slide into a different class this year.

“You boys should go call Jet, see who he has like you did the past few years.”

“They,” Kobra interrupts, looking at her pointedly. Jet had come out as nonbinary almost a year prior, although Donna hasn’t completely grasped their new pronouns quite yet.

She flushes red, correcting herself with an embarrassed smile on her face. “Right, they. Sorry.”

There are a few beats of awkward silence between them before Poison decides to wrap up the conversation. 

“Yeah, great idea, Mom. Kobra and I can facetime them in a bit.”

The boys’ mother beams at her sons. “Oh, look at you! You two are so grown up!”

Kobra takes that as his cue to leave, turning and bounding back up to his room. Poison follows him, but not before smiling at his mother, not trying to offend her anymore than he already had with his outburst earlier. He doesn’t want to get on her bad side this close to the beginning of the school year.

Once he is safely back upstairs, he rakes a hand through his red hair. Now that he thinks about it, it’s about due for another round of dye. The usually vibrant locks have faded and the roots have turned the natural brown color again.  _ Maybe I’ll redo it later today, _ he thinks, mindlessly opening the door to his room. He looks up and swears loud enough for his mother to yell at him from downstairs. There on his bed is Jet Star, a shit-eating grin on their face. 

“Dude, you seriously need to stop letting yourself in,” Poison tells them, leaning back against the wall, heart racing.

“You seriously need to stop leaving your window unlocked,” Jet counters, picking at a loose thread on their black skinny jeans.

Poison rolls his eyes. “I still don’t understand how you get up this high,” he says, referring to the fact that his room is on the second floor;

Jet wiggles their fingers, eyes gleaming. “A magician never reveals their secrets.”

Poison takes a seat at his desk, swiveling in his chair to face the other teen. “Why are you in my room anyway?” He plucks a pen off the ink-stained desk, pointing it at his friend.

Jet digs around in their pocket for a moment before pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. They wave it around in the air. “Schedules, man. Who do you have?”

“Ritter.”

“The Director,  _ again?! _ Shit, Pois, what did you do to them to get her three years in a row?” Jet cocks their head to the side, dark curls spilling over their shoulder.

“It’s not my fault she hasn't retired yet. Besides, do I have to  _ do _ something?” Poison snorts. “They hate us anyway.”

“He’s got a point,” a voice says from the doorway. Kobra leans against the frame, arms crossed. His face is stoic as ever as he nods at Jet, acknowledging their presence but not questioning it.

Jet Star sighs. “You guys are such downers. Poison, this is our senior year. Let’s not spend it hiding.”

Kobra scrubs a hand over his thin face. “Would you rather spend it getting the shit beaten out of you again?”

“Nah, you can save us with your epic karate moves.” Poison smirks, picking up a sock off the floor and tossing it at his brother.

Kobra makes an indignant noise, moving out of the way. He had taken karate all through middle school, dropping out just before his freshman year, and his friends still won’t let him forget it. It wasn’t a terrible experience, but it definitely hadn’t made him popular.

The truth is, none of them are exactly popular. Far from it, in fact. They’re more the kids that get relentlessly bullied, constantly shoved into lockers and beaten up for sport. Shortly after Jet and Poison’s sophomore year (Kobra’s freshman year), they started shutting their mouths and blending into the background as much as they could. It seemed to work pretty well, because most people started picking other victims and leaving them alone. Except for one. Ever since that fateful day at the park, Korse and his goons made it their mission to make their lives hell.

It isn’t as bad for Kobra, seeing as he is a year younger than the rest of them, therefore making him harder to come by, but Poison and Jet get the brunt of it. They’ve learned to deal with it though, going through the motions like clockwork. Korse will approach them at their lockers surrounded by his buddies. Then they’ll exchange a few insults and one of them will end up slammed into a locker. Then Korse will laugh and carry on his way. They’re all used to it to a point where it’s almost gotten boring. Of course, it doesn’t help that no matter how many times Korse gets reported, he never is punished for his actions. That’s what happens when your mother is the Madame Director herself.

Kobra decides to change the subject, directing them back to the original conversation. “So, Jet, who do you have?” 

Jet turns to him, flopping onto the bed underneath him. “I got Dr. D again. A hell of a lot better than Ritter.”

Kobra snorts. “That’s for sure.” He walks over to Poison’s bed, offering a hand to Jet. They take it, allowing him to pull them up.

“So, do you guys want to do something?” Jet asks.”Last week of summer, and all.”

Poison opens his mouth to speak, but Jet cuts him off again.

“I am not letting you stay inside, Pois, get your ass out of that chair and let's find something to do.”

Poison mutters something about Jet not being his mother while Kobra looks around the room. Eventually his eyes land on Poison’s collection of spray paint cans. He crosses the room in two long strides, grabbing one out the bag with a glint in his eye. He flips it over in his hand once before looking at his brother and friend.

“Who wants to do something illegal?”

Poison wants to argue, but the artist in him refuses to let him say no. He looks to Jet, who is currently looking like they could care less as long as it gets the brothers outside. Poison bites his lip, thoughtful, before his face splits into a giant grin. 

“Hell yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this will start to pick up traction, but I'll continue it no matter what. I'm not giving up on it lmao.


	3. Na Na Na

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ayyy, Ghouls has arrived! And he is NOT happy about it! This chapter takes place two weeks after the start of school btw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I KNOW I started this story in third person, but you know what? Fuck it. It's my story, and I have decided that I want to write it in first person. Sorry about the inconsistencies, but everything I do is inconsistent, so........ Also, I DID say that this was a shitty fic, and I would hate to tell a lie. But yeah, if you have a problem,you can take it up with my nonexistent manager. Thank you guys for reading and leaving comments, it means a lot! Also, yes I made Ghoul ftm and, again, leave all complaints with Susan (my manager). (Also, I do actually apologize for the perspective switch, I feel bad about that lmao)

POV: Ghoul

I walk along the top of a wooden fence on my way to school, hands crammed into the pockets of my paint-stained hoodie. I had perfected the art of balance back in my old town, long before it had all gone to shit, so I’m hardly in any danger of falling. In fact, the only thing I’m actually in danger of is being caught again. I’ve lived in Battery City for three weeks and have already been reported four times for trespassing and vandalism, and my aunt would have my ass if I got into even more trouble. 

I don’t mean to make her life any harder than it already is, but honestly, I don’t give a flying fuck about how difficult her life is. I am sixteen years old and already have a body count in every sense of the phrase. In fact, that’s half of the reason I’m stuck in this hellhole anyway. That and the fact that my aunt and uncle are my only living family over the age of eighteen. At least I have my cousin, Charlie- or Cherri Cola, as I have always known him as- to keep me company. From what I’ve heard, he and his friends are at the bottom of the popularity chain, though, so I’ll have to be careful if I don’t want to get killed by upper-classmen on my first day.

Technically, school started two weeks ago, but I was able to convince my uncle to let me start later. To “adjust” as I had put it. After all, it’s not every day that you move halfway across the country after accidentally murdering your parents because of a few shots of testosterone. So yeah, no one questioned it when I said I needed time. Unfortunately for me, Aunt Linda only gave me fourteen days before forcing me out the door. 

I jump down from the fence, shifting my backpack into a more comfortable position on my shoulder. Cherri had offered me a ride, but I prefer to walk. It gives me time to think, and also time to decide whether or not it would be worth it to skip class. I reach up to my greasy black hair, braiding a few strands together without thought. By the time I reach the school, I’m already thirty minutes late. I run my fingers through my hair a few times, shaking out the braids, and enter the building. 

I quickly sign myself in and take my crumpled schedule out of my backpack, looking for my first class. Math. Of fucking course. I mutter something under my breath that Aunt Linda would certainly be scandalized by and shove the paper back into my bag. I shuffle down the hallway, my usual energy depleted from the lack of sleep I got last night. I had stayed up until the ass-crack of dawn worrying about today and wondering if it was too late to drop out and join a traveling circus. I’d fit in there at least. 

It takes me a while to find the right classroom, but eventually I do, much to my chagrin. I knock on the door, waiting for someone to let me in. I can hear hushed voices coming from inside, probably wondering who could possibly be at the door. Maybe it’s a serial killer. They wouldn’t be too far off, anyway. After a long moment, the door swings open to reveal a slim woman with jet black hair cut just above her shoulders. Her dark eyes are narrowed in annoyance, and she taps the silver watch on her wrist.

“Ms. Iero. You certainly took your time,” she scolds, letting me into the room.

“It’s mister, actually,” I correct, a fake smile plastered on my face.

The teacher, Mrs. Ritter, I believe, rolls her eyes at me. “Not in this classroom, it’s not. You can play that game with the other teachers, but I’m not going to let that slide here. Please take a seat, Grace.”

I stay where I am, leaning back against the doorframe. I hear quiet laughter coming from the other students and I cross my arms in a weak attempt to smother the anger building inside of me. “I would really prefer it if you would call me Ghoul.”

Mrs. Ritter glares at me coldly. “For the last time, please take a seat. If you wish to speak with the principal, I can call down to the office right now. The choice is yours.” 

I weigh my options. As much as I don’t want to let her win, getting sent to the office on my first day here would send Aunt Linda into hysterics, and I really don’t want to get on my aunt’s bad side.

I huff, shuffling to the back of the room in defeat. I find an empty desk and throw my stuff onto the ground next to it. I plop down onto the hard plastic chair and bring one knee up to my chest, leaning against it languidly. Mrs. Ritter returns to her original lesson, but I pay no attention, turning to the person seated at the desk on my left. He has bleached blonde hair, light brown eyes, and a killer jawline. Also, he’s one of the only students who minded his own damn business and didn’t laugh when I entered the room. 

I tear a small piece of paper out of my notebook and wad it up into a ball. I toss it at the kid, trying to get his attention. It smacks him in the side of the head and he jumps, startled. I hold back a laugh at his reaction. He turns to me.

“ _ What? _ ” he whispers, smoothing back his hair where it was messed up by my paper attack.

I send him a crooked smile, fiddling with the sleeve of my hoodie. “Thanks for not being a dick,” I whisper back.

“Uh, you’re welcome?” he responds, raising an eyebrow. “What did you say your name was again?”

“Ghoul.”

The boy looks at me, amused. “Well, what you did up there with The Director was pretty damn cool, Ghoul.” He pauses for a moment. “I’m Kobra.” 

I grin widely for what feels like the first time in weeks. “That’s a wicked name, dude. Did your parents actually call you that?”

He nods seriously, lips turning up in a small smile. “Yeah, and they called my brother Poison.”

I smother a laugh with a fist. “No way, that’s fucking awesome.”

“Just wait ‘til you meet the rest of our friends. You should come sit with us at lunch.”

“Really?” I ask, genuinely surprised at how nice he’s being.

Kobra nods again, and bends down. Before I can ask what he is doing, he scoops up the small paper ball that I had thrown at him earlier and launches it at me. His face remains neutral but for the excited twinkling in his eyes. I open my mouth to say something when the bell interrupts me, signaling the end of the first period. Kobra stands up, his bag already packed, and offers me a hand. I take it, letting him pull me up.

“See you at lunch,” he says, slinging his bag over one shoulder.

I stop him before he can leave. “Wait, how will I know where you are?”

He shakes his head grinning at his feet. “Trust me, you’ll know.”

With that, he turns and joins the crowd, filing out into the hallway. I tilt my head to the side thoughtfully. Maybe this situation won’t be as bad as I thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do y'all think so far?


	4. Bulletproof Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OKAY JUST A HEADS UP! Basically just understand that I went "fuck the school system, I'm gonna make a version that's Even Worse!" and threw the legit system out the window and replaced it with something completely different. Is it confusing? Yes. Am I going to try and explain it? Also yes. Is my explanation going to confuse you even more? Probably. ANYWAY HERE WE GO. Basically in this school the teachers can choose what grade they want to teach. They have to teach at least two. Usually, teachers would teach the freshmen and the sophomores OR the juniors and the seniors, but some teach more or all. Homerooms and musical electives are a mix of all four grades, but other electives (such as art in this story) are mainly one grade at a time. I AM COMPLETELY AWARE HOW FUCKED UP THIS IS, BUT I REALLY DON'T CARE!!!! So yeah, there are an abundance of teachers that just do whatever they want and no one questions the system.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, fellow Killjoys, I'm back! *insert awkward finger guns* Okay, so, if this chapter seems disconnected or something its because I started it on the first and then couldn't find time to write again before today... but anyway enough of my weird schedule. Speaking of schedules, I'll put a link with the schedules in here somewhere. Also, I'm begging you, if you have name suggestions for a teacher, please tell me, because I completely ran out of ideas ): Another thing, I realize that when I'm writing, I always have them throwing shit at Kobra for some reason. I don't know why. I guess he's just very target-like. (I love him, though, don't get me wrong)  
> Anyway here's that link I promised you, please please please take a second to check it out:  
> https://docs.google.com/document/d/15w4FVRASwF5DL2_6PUQZavqmTYEkzLy-YNiw7Jqj7oI/edit?usp=sharing  
> (I'm not sure if that link is a real link or if you have to copy and paste it into a new tab ((its really hard to tell)) but im not sure how else to do it so...)

POV: Kobra

I don't really like it here, but I’m not that surprised. Despite Jet’s endless optimism, everything about this place is still just as shitty as ever. It’s the same students. The same teachers. The same halls. The same goddamn routine. It has been for the past few years. Like I said, I’m not surprised. My schedule this year isn’t that great, either. The school system is fucked up, so my homeroom consists of both freshmen and juniors. I’ll admit, it’s not all bad, though. One perk of being surrounded by wide-eyed fifteen year olds is that no one tries to mess with you. Not every class is like that, though. For example, electives and athletics are completely separated by grade. Unfortunately, that makes it a hell of a lot easier for assholes to get their ways.

Even though I lucked out with homerooms this year, getting Dr. D, I still got stuck with Korse’s mother for mathematics. The last three years she had looped with Jet and my brother’s grade, but this year she had decided to take on all four grades. Fantastic. During my freshman year, she had taught both freshmen and sophomores, so at least I had my brother in my class with me, but no such luck this time around. But hey, now I’ve got that short kid to suffer her wrath with me. 

I lean back in my seat with a sigh. I still have fifteen minutes to go before lunch starts, which means fifteen minutes of listening to Ms. Helena sob about her failed love life instead of what she’s  _ actually _ supposed to be teaching. Which, ironically, happens to be chemistry. Honestly, it’s kind of sad.

I’m staring blankly at the wall when I hear the bell (finally) ring, dismissing us and leaving Ms. Helena to her blubbering. I exit the classroom quickly, eager to get to my friends. I don’t bother stopping by my locker, knowing I’ll just steal food from my brother anyway. I scan the hallway for Ghoul, but I don’t see the energetic teen amidst the crowd of students. I make my way to the lunchroom, keeping to the side of the hallway to avoid a run in with Korse or any of his brutish friends. For the first time today, luck is in my favor and I manage to make it to the cafeteria without getting into a scrape. 

I scan the room, finding my friends within seconds. They’re hard to miss with their wild hair colors and...unique fashion sense. Poison is seated next to Jet, waving his hands around as he speaks. At the table next to them, Cherri Cola sits with Show Pony, Val, and the twins. I jog over to them and sit down across from Poison, immediately snatching a bag of chips out of his hand.

He glares at me. “Prick. Those are mine.” He tries to grab them back, but I hold them just out of his reach.

“Mine now,” I say, patting his outstretched hand. Poison scowls, drawing back his arm.

“Why do you always steal from  _ me _ ? Jet’s here, too, you know.”

I shrug, shoving a handful of chips into my mouth. “Jet’s food is shit.”

From the other side of the table, my friend scoffs, dumping their lunch onto the table and wadding up the paper bag. They chuck it at my head and it bounces off harmlessly. I look around the table for something else to throw, fully preparing for an all out trash battle when a familiar voice comes from behind me.

“Well, that looks familiar,” Ghoul says, referring to earlier this morning when he used my head for target practise. Maybe it’s just a good “throw shit at Kobra” kind of day.

I look over my shoulder to glare at him. He laughs, covering his mouth with a hand. I take the moment to study him more in-depth than I had in math class. His face is fairly androgynous, much like my brother’s, and his eyes are lined with thin black eyeliner. The forest green hoodie he’s wearing is speckled with neon paint, and his black jeans have holes where his knees are. His eyes are golden brown with bright green specks, and there seems to be a guarded sadness behind them. I don’t have time to dwell on that fact, however, because the boy plops himself down into the seat next to mine. 

From across the table, Poison looks at me expectantly. “Kobra? You gonna introduce us?”

“Oh yeah.” I clear my throat. “Guys, this is Ghoul. Ghoul, that’s my brother, the one I told you about earlier, and Jet.” I point at the table next to us, deciding to introduce him to the rest of our friends. “Then over there is Vaya and Vamos. They’re the ones with the pink and blue hair. Pretty chill, probably won’t set you on fire. The grumpy looking asshole with the white hair is Val. You should probably just leave him alone. Next to him is Show Pony. They’re Dr. D’s kid. To be honest, I don’t know them that well, but they’re weird so they fit right in with the rest of us. Then there’s-”

“Cherri Cola,” Ghoul interrupts, looking over at the table where Cherri is. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been living with him for the past three weeks.” He leaves it at that, not that we need much of an explanation.

“Oh!” Poison says, gesturing in Ghoul’s direction. “You’re his cousin! I remember him saying something about you.”

Ghoul nods, turning his attention to the redhead. “Yeah, that’s me alright.” He freezes for a moment, looking mildly panicked. “He didn’t tell you  _ why _ I’m staying there, though, right?”

Jet knits their eyebrows together in concern. “No, he didn’t. Is everything okay?”

Ghoul relaxes, shoulders slumping. “Yeah, it’s all good. Just some...drama back home.”

My friends don’t seem convinced, but they decide not to pry. The table goes quiet for a moment before Poison breaks the silence.

“So, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what are your pronouns?” He sounds hesitant, as if he were tiptoeing around a minefield.

Ghoul laughs, a light, airy sound, and it seems to break the tension forming over the group. “He/him. Don’t worry about it, dude, the tits tend to throw people off.” He gestures to his chest, and Poison cracks an amused grin.

Jet and I share a knowing look over the table. We both know my brother, which means it is quite clear to us how quickly Poison has already latched onto the newest member of our group. I tune back into the conversation, when I hear my name being called.

“Hello? Anyone in there?” Ghoul waves his hand in front of my face and I swat it away. 

“What?” I ask, slightly annoyed.

“Oh, yeah, I just wanted to say that your friends seem pretty cool.”

I snort, rolling my eyes. “Trust me, they’re not.” I point at my brother. “This one literally sits up in his room all day drawing comic book characters until he passes out from sleep deprivation. It’s happened four times.”

Poison narrows his eyes at me. “I liked it better when you were quiet.” 

I smirk. “You can’t deny what I said, Pois.”

Ghoul raises an eyebrow at my brother. “Comic book characters, huh? Which ones?”

Poison blushes, his cheeks turning a light pink. “Any. All. Whatever I can get my hands on. Original characters, too. Sometimes Kobra helps me.”

I know that last part was thrown in as his way to get back at me, but I brush it off. Ghoul, surprisingly, doesn’t make fun of him.

“Yeah? What else do you guys like to do?”

Jet rolls their eyes. “They don’t  _ do _ anything. If they had it their way, they’d never leave their rooms.” He reaches across the table and picks up my arm. “Do you see how pale he is? We live in a fucking desert and he looks like he’s never seen the sun.”

I snatch my arm back and tug down the sleeves of my red leather jacket so that they hang over the tips of my fingers. Then, in a very mature and sophisticated manner, I smack Jet with one of them. 

Before they can retaliate, though, the bell rings. Students start getting up from the tables and flooding back in through the front door of the school. Poison gets up, crushing all of his trash into a ball and tossing it into the nearest garbage bin. He turns to Ghoul.

“What class do you have next?” he asks, ignoring the presence of Jet and I.

Ghoul rifles through his backpack for a second before pulling out a wrinkled schedule and scanning it quickly.

“Art and Photography with Dr. D. You?”

Poison grins. “I have study-hall, but I usually spend it in the art room to avoid The Director. We could walk there together if you want.”

_ Wow, Poison, how convenient,  _ I think to myself. I suppose he didn’t lie, but he definitely left out the part where he spends the whole period hiding in Dr. D’s supply cabinet with his sketchbook and avoids all human contact if possible.

“Yeah, thanks, that would be helpful. I don’t really know where it is, anyway.” Ghoul looks over at him with the biggest, most hopeful puppy-dog eyes I have ever seen.

I look over at Poison pointedly. There’s no way he can hide away during the period this time. My brother seems to realize this, but he doesn’t show any sign of regret.

“Yeah, my pleasure.” He walks around to the other side and offers Ghoul a hand. The smaller boy takes it with a smile and pulls himself up. 

The two start down the hallway, going with the flow of the crowd, and I slide around to the other side of the table where Jet is still seated. Despite me being younger than both Poison and the person sitting next to me, I’m somehow taller than both of them. Jet leans their head against my shoulder and I put an arm around their waist. 

“How are you doing?” I ask them. I know they get anxious around new people, and even though they seemed okay just now, I still like to ask.

Jet turns their head so that their face is buried in the space between my shoulder and head.

They sigh. “I’m okay. He seemed nice.”

I nod and press a kiss to their hair. “Give yourself some time to get used to him, I know he can be...a lot.”

My partner hums. “He has a lot of energy. More than Poison, I think.”

I laugh. “Maybe. We should probably get to class, you know.”

They sigh, but make no move to get up, their energy diminished by the previous encounter with Ghoul.

I think for a moment. “ _ Or _ we could leave right now and cuddle back at my house?” I pose it like a question, letting them make a decision.

They look up at that. “When will your parents be home?”

“Not ‘til later tonight.”

They stand up, tugging me along with them. “Okay, let’s do that then.”

I smile. “Wow, Jet? Skipping school? What a rule breaker,” I scold, jokingly.

They roll their eyes, punching me lightly in the arm. “Asshole. Don’t make me change my mind.”

I grin, slipping my hand into theirs. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IF YOU DID NOT CLICK ON THE LINK BEFORE, PLEASE DO IT IS VERY HELPFUL (in my opinion)  
> also yeah leave a comment, tell me if there's anything I can do to make this better. all feedback and constructive criticism is welcome!


	5. SING

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get a glimpse into both Poison and Ghoul's pasts. (i really suck at summaries, but it's a decent chapter, trust me.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD I'M SO SORRY FOR DISAPPEARING AND I'D SAY IT WON'T HAPPEN AGAIN BUT IT PROBABLY WILL BECAUSE I AM AN ACTUAL GOBLIN. Basically, I've been in kind of a depressive rut recently and I thought I posted this chapter but apparently I didn't so it was just sitting in a google doc for weeks..... sorry about that. ANYWAY enjoy it, lads, cause I'm not sure when the next one will be ready *insert shameful finger guns*

SING

(POV: Poison)

I wade through the growing crowd of people, pushing my way past a group of students congregating in the middle of the hallway. Kobra’s new friend, Ghoul, tags along behind me. I had agreed to lead him to the art room, hoping to make a good first impression, but hadn’t really thought it through. Now I not only have to socialize, but I can’t hide in the supply room the whole time. It isn’t that I want to completely abandon Ghoul in a room full of judgmental teenagers, I just really,  _ really _ don’t want to subject myself to said teenagers. At least I know Show Pony will be there, and they usually draw all the attention away from, well, anyone else. But still, I’d much prefer sitting in Dr. Death Defying’s storage space for 40 minutes than in the back of a classroom with prying eyes and judgmental stares. But I guess I’m going to have to endure it for the newest member of our group.

I stop abruptly, pulled from my thoughts by a familiar face. Ghoul slams into my back with an audible “oof”, causing me to stumble slightly. I take a step back, trying to herd the smaller boy over to the side of the hallway. If we can get by without Korse noticing us, we should be able to get into the classroom without any bruises. Unfortunately, things are never that easy. Korse turns his head, locking eyes with me and I curse under my breath. I spare a quick glance behind me, where Ghoul looks equal parts pissed and confused. When I look back, Korse has moved closer to us, backing us against the wall.  _ There’s no way to get out of this now,  _ I realize, and pull myself up to my full height, chin up. Korse smirks at me. He snaps his fingers, and like something out of a movie, half of the people in the hallway scurry out of his way. I roll my eyes. 

He stalks over to us and I cross my arms, glaring at him. 

“Well, look who it is! It’s been a while since I’ve run into you. Where’s the rest of your little group? Did they finally abandon you? It’s about time.” He smiles as if we were old friends just catching up. I want to spit at him.

“Fuck off, Korse, let us by,” I say, my voice even yet full of venom.

He quirks an eyebrow up. “Us?” The larger teen glances behind me, spotting Ghoul easily. His eyes brighten sickeningly. “What do you know? Did you get yourself a little girlfriend, Poison? Funny, could have sworn you were a fag last time I checked.” Korse laughs, leaning back on his heels.

“You’re real funny,” I say, trying to keep my rage at bay. It’s one thing to come after me, but to attack my friends? It’s almost impossible to just stand there and let it happen.

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? At least you used to.”

I roll my eyes. “Bullshit. I haven’t found anything you’ve said even mildly interesting since we were nine, and even that was different.”

Korse steps up to me, using his towering height as an advantage.”Different how, Poison? People don’t change. You of all people should know that. After all, you’ve always been too scared to  _ really _ do anything worth remembering.”

I see red. Without thinking, I swing my fist up. It connects with Korse’s chin, making his head fly back. “Remember  _ that _ ,” I spit.

Korse stumbles back. He brings a hand to his mouth and it comes away speckled with blood. “Why you little-” He charges at me, gripping my throat tight and shoving me back against a row of lockers.

Before I can even think to struggle, Korse collapses on the ground, groaning in pain. Ghoul stands over him, backpack held out in front of him.

My jaw drops in both confusion and awe. “What the hell is in that thing?!” I choke out, gesturing to his apparent weapon. He unzips his backpack and wordlessly pulls out a large, neon green rock. That answers a lot of my questions, but also raises a few new ones such as,  _ who the fuck carries around rocks in their backpacks?! _

I shake my head, snapping myself out of my daze. I look back at Korse, who is now slowly getting up and muttering colorful expletives under his breath. I grab Ghoul by the arm and drag him down the hall, trying to leave Korse far behind us. We don’t stop running until we’re safely outside the art room. 

I lean back against the wall, trying to catch my breath. I make eye contact with Ghoul and hold it for a beat of stunned silence before he doubles over with laughter. 

“What?” I ask, slightly confused.

He gasps for breath, sliding down the wall next to me. He stares up at me with a huge grin on his face. “That was fucking priceless. He dropped like a sack of bricks! And your face! You should have seen your face when I pulled out that rock! God, shit like this never happened back home.” He falls into another fit of laughter, burying his head in his arms. 

“Well, you’d better get used to it, hard to escape it in a place like this,” I say, a hint of humor in my voice. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t amused by this new kid’s strange sense of humor and even weirder personality. 

Ghoul doesn’t respond to that, now fully concentrated on a small hole in the knee of his jeans. He tugs on a loose string, making the hole slightly larger. Somewhere in the span of five seconds I lost his attention, and it’s almost comical. I smile and tap him on the shoulder, letting out an amused huff when he jumps in surprise.

“We should probably, you know, go  _ into _ the classroom. Not much use to sit in the hallway.”

“Fine,” he replies, drawing out the word as he stands up.

We make our way into the large room, taking a couple of empty seats in the far back corner. Despite the dreary, gray walls and quiet environment, it’s my favorite room in this whole building (not that there’s much competition if I’m being honest). It helps that Dr. Death Defying lets me do almost whatever I want so long as I’m quiet and don’t distract other students. I’m not sure what it is about it, but I like having the creative freedom for an hour or so every day. Well, that along with my  _ actual _ art period. I’m grateful Dr. D is so chill about the situation, though, I’d lose my mind in this place otherwise.

About ten minutes into class, Death Defying lets the class break off and work on their respective projects. I don’t pay much attention, but my head snaps up when I hear him call my name. 

“Hey, Poison, can I get your help up here for a moment?”

Immediately, at least fifteen heads turn to look at me curiously and I inwardly groan. Being the center of attention has never been my thing, even if it is just a bunch of kids in a classroom.

I shuffle up to his desk, abandoning my sketchbook with Ghoul and the rest of my things. He looks up at me from his wheelchair (bedazzled with ribbons and gemstones thanks to Show Pony). 

“Hey, kid, would you mind helping the new kid if sh- _ he _ has any questions? It can be hard starting at a new school, I just want to make sure he’s as comfortable as possible. You think you can help him out?”

“Oh, uh, yeah sure. I can do that. Did you need anything else?”

Dr. D smiles and reaches up to pat me on the shoulder. “Nah, that’s all. I knew I could count on you, Way.”

I laugh. “No problem. I’m gonna get back to my spot if that’s alright.”

“‘Course. Get lost now.” He laughs, eyes crinkling in the corners before turning his attention back to grading some still life portraits.

I walk back to my place next to Ghoul and plop myself down in my seat. The other boy looks up at me expectantly.

“Death Defying just wanted me to help you if you had any questions.” I pause. “Do you have any questions?”

Ghoul leans back, tapping a red pen against his chin. “One. What’s up with you calling him that?”

“Oh, there’s actually a story behind this one. During my freshman year he was in the student parking lot and someone ran him down. He was rushed to the hospital and lost a lot of blood. Went into a coma for a few weeks. When he woke up, he was completely paralyzed from the waist down. I guess Show Pony mentioned something about him being “death defying” and we all started calling him that.”

Ghoul snorts. “If I had known this is what I was missing back home, I would have fucked everything up earlier. This place is insane.”

“What do you mean ‘fucked everything up’?”

“Nothing. So, Kobra said you draw your own characters. Tell me about them?”

I decide to ignore his obvious avoidance of the previous subject and move onto the next. 

“They really aren’t that special,” I say, slightly hesitant.

“I bet they’re great,” he responds, swiveling in his chair so that he faces me. He points at the sketchbook in my hands. “Are they in there?”

I bite my lip, internally debating the pros and cons of showing him. I nod slowly, passing him the sketchbook. He grins, his whole face lighting up. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t at least slightly endearing. He flips through the many pages filled with colorful characters before stopping on one. 

Ghoul scoots closer to me, holding open the page depicting my personal favorite OC with his fire red hair and Dead Pegasus jacket. “This guy kinda looks like you.”

I huff in amusement, folding my arms over my chest awkwardly. “That’s kind of the point.”

He looks up at me, waiting for me to elaborate.

I comply. “I created these characters with Kobra and the other guys back when we were kids. We used to play as them every day. Wanted to  _ be _ them when we grew up. We stopped after a while, but I couldn’t bring myself to forget about them. Now they’re kind of just a sad reminder of what I wish I could be.” I point to the page, my character staring up at me with dull colored pencil eyes. “He’s a hero. He’s strong and reliable and can always be counted on in an emergency.” I sigh. “He helped me a lot as a kid, too. I never really had a role model growing up, so I always went to him. It was nice.”

Ghoul tilts his head at my admission. “Were your parents not around?”

“Kind of. They had me when they were real young, and I guess my dad didn’t really understand  _ how _ to be a dad, so he kind of removed himself from the situation. He treated me and Kobes as roommates instead of his sons. My mom works two jobs, so we hardly saw her either. She did try to make time for us, though, and when she could it was awesome. I just wish it had been more often, you know?”

Ghoul nods. “I know,” he admits quietly.

I look at him more intently at that. Suddenly, the sad look in his eyes resurfaces, and I start to think I might understand a little better now.

He shakes his head, trying to rid the sense of vulnerability in the room. “Anyway, I think you’re pretty damn brave and strong and all that shit, too.”

I laugh. “Sure. And what makes you say that?”

“You threw a punch to protect my honor!” He pretends to swoon, blinking his eyes like a damsel saved from a tower. “My hero.”

I shove his shoulder lightly, smiling. “Oh, come on. I was just being a decent person. Besides, it wasn’t that effective. I would’ve had the shit beaten out of me if you and that damn rock weren’t there.”

“Ah, whatever, seemed pretty brave to me. There are plenty of people who wouldn’t have done anything.”

“You’d better stop talking or I’ll get a big head.”

“I think you could use it, you don’t seem to be confident enough as it is.” Ghoul reaches over and pats me on the head, a semi-serious expression on his face.

I laugh and swat his hand away. “You’ve got me there. Anyway, you should probably work on that project now, otherwise you’ll be even further behind.”

He rolls his eyes. “Okay, mom.” He looks down at the blank page in front of him and taps it with a pencil disinterestedly. 

I raise an eyebrow at his antics. “Something wrong?”

“Not my style.”

“And what is ‘your style’?”

“Spray paint on walls. Preferably rich peoples’ walls. ‘S funny watching them get mad.”

I make an unattractive choking noise in the back of my throat at that.

“Something wrong?” He asks, mocking my words from before.

“Nah, just wasn’t expecting that. What a rebel.”

His eyes twinkle as he laughs. “Don’t pretend like you’ve never done it. I saw the paint on your jeans.”

“Observant, I see. How do you know I wasn’t painting my kitchen or something?”

“Were you painting your kitchen neon green?”

I run a hand through my hair, not bothering to give him an answer he already knows. “You know, for someone my brother’s age, you aren’t bad. You should come tagging with us sometime, I’m sure the guys would be fine with having you come along.”

“Really?” He asks, a genuine excitement brewing in his golden brown eyes.

I grin and open my sketchbook to a blank page. “Sure. Now seriously, get to work.”

He rolls his eyes, but begins working on his project without another word.

Throughout the rest of the period I watch Ghoul draw, making idle conversation with him every once and awhile. I’m starting to think Jet was right, maybe this year I won’t spend my time hiding. Maybe it’ll turn out better than I thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you guys think? Lmk (:


	6. Planetary (GO!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a different chapter today, lads. Be warned, this covers some sensitive topics, so read with caution. The first part of this is in Korse's perspective, which is a bit darker. The last part is in Ghoul's perspective and is much lighter. Please enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, I am not dead! It's been a while since my last update, so sorry about that lmao. Just to reiterate what I said in the summary, this chapter contains sensitive topics such as self-harm and suicide. If that is not something you want to read, please consider your own personal limits before proceeding. I love you all very much, please don't subject yourself to anything potentially triggering. Feel free to skip ahead to Ghoul's part of the chapter, which I'll mark with a line of asterisks (****). Okay, thanks!

POV: Korse

I don’t hate them. To be completely honest, I don’t really _hate_ anyone. Well, unless I’m counting myself, which I’m not. Frankly, I’m more jealous than anything, as much as I loath to admit it. They get to just live their lives as they are with minimum consequences. They get to dye their hair batshit colors and loudly express their opinions about the society we live in. I, however, have to sit back and do as I’m told. I get punished for the things they’re praised for. It isn’t fair, and it makes me angry. I suppose that’s why I torment them like I do, not that that’s a good excuse. Deep down, I know that none of it is their fault, but sometimes I wish they knew how privileged they are compared to me. They don’t have to constantly deal with their mother breathing down their necks at school, and then being tossed to their father like a sack of meat that no longer pleases her as soon as they get home everyday. They don’t have to be constantly worried about fucking up and ending up sleeping on a buddy’s couch for the next few days because their parents kicked them out and told them to stay away until they could “figure out their shit”. Their families love them. They’re more than just a prize. At my house, I’m either something to boast about or a disgrace, no in between.

They’ll never understand, and I can never explain it to them.

We used to be good friends, if I remember correctly, so I know I didn’t always have a grudge against them. There was a point in time when we got along. Then I had to go and screw everything up. I had let it slip to my mother that Poison had a crush on a guy. Big mistake. She, of course, told my father who in turn told me that “no son of his would be allowed to hang around dirty fags, I don’t care how young they are. That shit spreads.” 

It was only a few years after that that, naturally, I started noticing men in a way I was told I shouldn’t. I didn’t want to accept it, so I started blaming Poison and Jet and the others for “infecting” me. Obviously, that’s utter bullshit, but blaming it on them was easier than accepting my homosexual tendencies as a part of who I am. Again, not a good excuse. 

Another fact, I know I hurt them. Consistently. I don’t really enjoy it, to be honest. I keep telling myself, maybe if I make them hurt as much as _I’m_ hurting, it will start to get better, but it never does. All it does is make them feel bad, and make me feel worse, and yet I can’t ever seem to stop.

Maybe there’s just something wrong with me. Maybe my parents twisted my brain with their ideals so much that I can no longer be recognized as the same kid I was eight years ago. I don’t know. At least I can admit that I’m fucked up. 

Additionally, I can barely remember what it feels like to be genuinely happy. I guess that’s expected, though, when you’re so full of anger all the time. _All_ the time. It’s enough to drive any sane person mad, not that I qualify for “sane” in any way. In fact, I got so sick of it to the point where taking it out on Poison and his gang wasn’t enough. I started taking it out on myself, too, which (unsurprisingly) was a lot more efficient than going after the others. I still have a lot of scars, though my parents couldn’t care less. I mean, why would they? They barely batted an eye when I OD’d on half a bottle of prescribed antidepressants and got myself hospitalized. Instead, they just locked me in a stuffy institution for a couple months and only visited me once the whole time I was there, and that was just to tell me that they expected me to be quiet about the ordeal when I went back to school. In the end, they covered the whole thing up and everyone else was none the wiser. 

I kind of like it like that, though. That way I can imagine that people would have cared had they known. It’s a good thing I’ll never know how they would’ve reacted, it spares me the guilt and embarrassment. 

Honestly, it’s pretty exhausting having to be a dick all the time, so I don’t really want to add to that. And, yeah, I know that nothing is Poison’s fault. I know that I’m a complete fucking train wreck of a person. I know that I’m only hurting myself by hurting the others. I know, but I don’t care. 

Which is just another sickening lie I tell myself to get through the day. Day after Day. It’s routine. 

Now _there’s_ something I truly hate.

  
************************************************

POV: Ghoul

It’s been almost two weeks since my talk with Poison in Dr. D’s classroom. Usually I’m not one for deep discussions. Honestly, I’d much rather set something on fire than sit around and talk about my deepest darkest fears. I’ll admit it was kind of refreshing, though. I enjoyed hearing Poison talk about his insecurities. Well, I take that back. I enjoyed making him feel better after talking about his insecurities. It gave me a sense of accomplishment, which is kinda weird for me. It was a nice feeling, though, so I won’t complain.

School ended about an hour ago, and I currently have nothing to do. Cherri Cola left the house with some of his friends a while ago. He asked if I wanted to come with to do whatever the hell they were gonna do, but I turned him down. I figure he’s sick of me after having to share his bedroom for the past month, so I decided to give him some alone time with Show Pony and the twins. 

I pick at the skin around my nails in boredom. I could probably call up Kobra or something, but I don’t really feel like walking all the way across the room to get my phone. I guess I’m pretty content as I am, anyway. Or at least, I’m sure there’s something else I can do.

Before I can think of what that “something” may be, I hear a tap at my window. I practically jump out of my skin at the noise, my heart pounding in my chest.

“ _What the fuck?!_ ” I whisper to myself, staring at the glass. As far as I can tell, there’s no one there.

The noise comes again. This time, I see a small pebble bounce off the glass and I sigh in relief. Guess I’m not getting haunted today.

I walk over to the window, opening it so I can yell at whoever is throwing the small rocks. Just as I crack the window open all the way, a pebble comes flying at me, hitting me in the face. Suddenly, I regret removing the screen. I hear a curse from below, followed quickly by an apology. I lean out the window, glaring down at the three figures below me. 

“Fucking _ow._ ”

“Yeah, yeah, quit your complaining and get down here,” Kobra yells, letting a handful of pebbles drop to the ground. 

I shrug and lift my leg over the ledge of the windowsill. I swing my other leg over and drop myself down the side of the house. I land in a scratchy green bush, getting away with just a couple small scrapes. I jump up and dust myself off, joining my friends in the grass a few feet away. 

I look up at them with a shit-eating grin, enjoying the horrified expressions on their faces. 

“The door would have worked just as well, you know,” Jet says, looking me over for any evidence of injury. 

“True, but this was quicker. Efficiency is key,” I tell them, patting them on the shoulder. 

Jet looks thoroughly unamused, though Poison and Kobra snicker from beside us. 

“Right, anyway, what are we doing?” I ask, leaving Jet to huff like an exasperated mother.

“I thought I’d make good on my promise,” Poison says, hoisting a paint smeared backpack higher up on his shoulder. “Want to come tagging with us?”

My face lights up at the idea. “Oh fuck yeah! Why didn’t you lead with that?”

Poison shakes his head and laughs. “You’re right, how stupid of me. Now are we going or what?”

He spins on his heel and starts marching off toward the street. The rest of us follow him, letting him lead the way to our destination, which turns out to be the back of an old brick gas station.

Poison sets down the backpack and unzips it, pulling out a silver can labeled “black” in large obsidian block letters. He sets to work right away, leaving us to do as we please. I reach in the bag and pull out a can of green paint, my signature color, and pick a spot a couple feet away from the others. 

I shut my brain off momentarily and let my body take over, basking in the adrenaline that courses through my veins. For a second, I can almost forget the horrible things I did before I came to Battery City. Almost. As I cover the wall, I keep part of my focus on Jet who’s stationed at the corner of the building, watching to make sure we don’t get caught. 

I pause for a second, checking over my work before proceeding. So far, the words “STAY CALM” are written on the wall in a purposefully messy font. The green base is overlaid with red and blue lines that are slightly off center, making it look like you’re tripping out. All that’s left to do is go over all three layers with a thin black line to complete the effect. 

I peak over at Jet, making sure they’re still watching out for us. Once I’m sure that we’re still undetected, I grab the black can from off of the ground and set to finishing my work. 

Once or twice I look over to find Poison watching me, and I feel a blush start creeping up the back of my neck at his intent gaze. 

When I’m satisfied with my own piece, I look over at the others’. Kobra did a simple silhouette painting of a man, presumably him, flipping off the sky. It makes me laugh silently, a grin spreading over my face. That grin drops, though, when I look over at Poison’s piece. His depicts an angel laying on the ground, one wing torn off. Her arms are reaching up, supposedly to heaven, but she can’t seem to reach far enough. She’s painted in different shades of gray, with a bold black X over her eyes, and the only color in the whole painting is her halo, which is a pale gold, and her tears which are a stunning wine red. 

I stare at it in awe, admiring the talent that went into making it. Poison clears his throat, snapping me out of my daze. I look over at him sheepishly. A prominent blush paints his cheeks, turning his face almost as red as his hair. 

“Dude, that’s incredible. Seriously, how did you do that?” I look back at the painting for a moment, taking in its beauty.

“Thanks. Practice makes perfect, right?” Poison chuckles awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. I guess he isn’t used to compliments. I make note of that.

“It sure does, man.” I want to reach out and touch the angel, to wipe the blood red tears from her eyes. I almost have to remind myself that it’s just a painting. 

He thanks me again, quieter this time, and starts packing away some of the paint cans. I watch as he pulls out his phone and takes a quick picture of his art before returning the device to his pocket. 

“Hey, guys, I hate to interrupt whatever is going on over there, but we need to get out of here.” Jet comes around the corner, scooping up some abandoned silver cans along the way. They dump them in the backpack and zip it up. Kobra jogs over to us and throws the backpack over his shoulder.

“Let’s go. Manager just pulled into the driveway. We can get out if we go around the other side and take the long way back home.”

Poison nods and I rub my hands together.

“What are we waiting for, then?” I ask, skipping backwards toward our escape route.

The others grin and break into a sprint. We run all the way back to safety, and we’re all out of breath by the time we reach Poison and Kobra’s house. I push back my hair, as we catch our breaths. I have a cramp in my left foot, and I’m disgustingly sweaty, but I feel great. In fact, I haven’t felt this alive in a long, long time.

“Well, that was fun,” I comment, a wide smile on my face. 

Jet nods in agreement, tying their wild hair into a ponytail. “Think you’ll want to come with us again?”

I pretend to think for a moment, tapping my chin in mock seriousness. “Hmm, I’ll have to say yes.”

The others clap, matching my mocking demeanor. “That settles it,” Poison says, ruffling my black hair. “Welcome to the club, Ghoul.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmk what you guys think! What do you like? What dont you like? Should I do more chapters with Korse's POV? 
> 
> For those of you who skipped Korse's chapter but are curious what happened, here you go (again, skip this if it makes you uncomfortable, although I tried to word it in the least triggering way possible):
> 
> All that happened was that we learned a bit more about his life at home, which is low-key abusive and he explained that the reason he bullies Poison and the others is because he's jealous of how free they are to express themselves. He also talked about how temperamental he is and how he isn't happy with the direction his life is going in and that he wishes he could change. We find out that he tried to end his life at one point, but that he failed and that he doesn't really know how to feel after that. Nothing too much happens in that chapter other than that, all of it is just a huge inner monologue.


End file.
